as if to conceal the dirty white stockings, which were nevertheless

distinctly visible. His long, black hair escaped in negligent waves from

beneath each side of his old pinched-up hat; and glimpses of his bare

wrists might be observed between the tops of his gloves and the cuffs

of his coat sleeves. His face was thin and haggard; but an

indescribable air of jaunty impudence and perfect self- possession

pervaded the whole man.

Such was the individual on whom Mr Pickwick gazed through his

spectacles (which he had fortunately recovered), and to whom he

proceeded, when his friends had exhausted themselves, to return in

chosen terms his warmest thanks for his recent assistance.

'Never mind,' said the stranger, cutting the address very short, 'said

enough - no more; smart chap that cabman - handled his fives well;

but if I'd been your friend in the green jemmy - damn me - punch his

head, - 'cod I would, - pig's whisper - pieman too, - no gammon.'

This coherent speech was interrupted by the entrance of the

Rochester coachman, to announce that 'the Commodore' was on the

point of starting.

'Commodore!' said the stranger, starting up, 'my coach - place

booked, - one outside - leave you to pay for the brandy- and-water, -

want change for a five, - bad silver - Brummagem buttons - won't do -

no go - eh?' and he shook his head most knowingly.

Now it so happened that Mr Pickwick and his three companions had

resolved to make Rochester their first halting-place too; and having

intimated to their new-found acquaintance that they were journeying

to the same city, they agreed to occupy the seat at the back of the

coach, where they could all sit together.

Up with you,' said the stranger, assisting Mr Pickwick on to the roof

with so much precipitation as to impair the gravity of that gentleman's

deportment very materially.

'Any luggage, Sir?' inquired the coachman. 'Who - I? Brown paper

parcel here, that's all - other luggage gone by water - packing-cases,

nailed up - big as houses - heavy, heavy, damned heavy,' replied the

stranger, as he forced into his pocket as much as he could of the

brown paper parcel, which presented most suspicious indications of

containing one shirt and a handkerchief.

'Heads, heads - take care of your heads!' cried the loquacious

stranger, as they came out under the low archway, which in those

days formed the entrance to the coach-yard. 'Terrible place -

dangerous work - other day - five children - mother - tall lady, eating

The Pickwick Papers